Breathing Beside Fires
by Silenced Cry
Summary: [Close your eyes and bite your tongue] It hurts being her favourite.


_Kingdom Hearts II _© _Square-Enix_

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_Because somewhere, deep down, Larxene knew she would be double-crossed by him._

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**Breathing Beside Fires**

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There is a quick sting and stickiness in the center of his palm. The cut is a neat line; an impression onto aged stone, a severe crease in the pages of an ancient text. It is the first time he realizes how easily his flesh yields to her blade, not that he thought himself invulnerable -he is far too practical to entertain that thought- but that he has succumbed. Axel thought he was stronger than the weak currents of blue in her eyes, much more resilient than the tornado of mock emotions she allows to consume her.

Her fingers are still shackles against his wrist, forcing his palm open, spilling blood. Something like a serpentine thirst overcomes him, and he knows that he likes her punishments more than desire will allow. "Larxene", his tongue coils around her name, "Do you like playing with fire?" And it is a dare, he knows, but he can't help laying it before her, because this traitor is more interesting to play with than the other.

_More than you know_, her eyes answer, but she is not aware of her own betrayal and seethes, "Fire is to be extinguished, and not enjoyed."

She makes it known that her nails are sharp enough to bite harshly into his flesh that she can press into him until red crescents surface. If it didn't hurt, she would be clinging to him, but there is always purpose in her actions -it is amazing how she fools herself. He loves her the more for it.

_I have not lost anything to you_, her failing grasp insists. There is something hiding in her eyes, and he wants to bring the harsh storm of her gaze to settle properly onto his so that he can set fire to it, melt it down and finally _understand_ her. She almost speaks the words that are begging for purchase on the arch of her neck, the slope of her shoulders, the constrained ribbon of her lips.

"I.." she catches herself, "can't stand you"; for this isn't the first time Larxene has permitted her own conflict to ensnare her. She smiles at her own words, because she wishes it were all true instead of not at all.

"What a shame" he breathes, arrogance flooding his tone. Her tongue curves around a sharp tooth, considering. He would allow her to hurt him again, add a bruise to the collection, place a pattern of scars onto his back -his body is a graveyard of old touches, not all of them hers. And for a moment, he is at a point of heightened awareness. She smells of friction, like pressure caught in the dark, and she's crackling, sparking with her own element. Heat simmers beneath his skin in response, coming in defense to prevent this woman with a different kind of power soaking through her gloves and tingling into his skin. It's an indrawn gasp and the spasm of her other hand pouncing onto his -there is something between their palms, disallowing a further touch. Her blade again, warning -_know your place_. And before, it was her whisper intoxicating him, "Close your eyes and bite your tongue", but now she has no time, and feels no need for his awareness. Larxene is consequences without reason, penalties without a cause, and Axel knows this is the only way she can continue to exist. He smiles.

Larxene closes his fingers over the sharp edge piercing into his skin, until the only thing he can focus on is its touch against his naked palm, and the turbulence taking over her face. "This is feel, touch, taste", she explains, "Pain." _This is everything we know, this is everything we mean it to be_, is what she's trying to say. _Pain is all of the emotions of the heart, until we get ours back_, she doesn't say, but suggests with the shaking of her cold, gloved fingers on his. Her eyelashes flutter briefly, settling from a glare to what he has confused to be repentance. Without knowing why, he is drawn to her, as if a natural force is suspended between them, and he is aware of what she wants, but will never admit to.

Despite the blood and the bridled torment, he tests movement and manages to link his fingers with hers, around the kunai. "This is love," he tastes his own sneer, and imagines what hers will be like as he lowers himself to her.

He's caught her off-guard, and she is all harshness and severity and her body rigid against his. "This is _hate_", she hisses and tightens her hand around his, willing the correction to be true.

He has some venom for her in the quicksilver of a smirk, and hopes the poison of it rests on her lips forever. Her kiss is always bitter, as if she cannot find forgiveness for herself after she allows him this sensation. She is lashing like a whip, and losing to her own devil. And her lips are already at his neck, parting as if to deceive, and the only thing he feels is teeth and fire and sorrow disguised as anger.

There is no space in her heart for her own betrayal, but she knows, she is consorting with the enemy -though Marluxia would never believe it so.

Nails again, and bruises and scars, and too much of Larxene all at once like a sudden storm, but he likes it.

_This is all we have_, he thinks.


End file.
